In My Time of Dying
by Hoozuki
Summary: Second chances were already hard to come by in their world, but third chances? That was damn near impossible. Beth would know. She was still alive, after all. Post-Coda feat. Mac based on prompt. WARNING: nonconsentual, murder, the usual violence from Mac
1. Prologue

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 _Everyone always said it sounded like a loud bang. It wasn't until she actually fired one herself that she realized that the sound was closer to a loud firecracker what with the sound being carried through the air. However, just before the darkness stole her from everyone she knew and loved, the firing of that gun was more like thunder on a really bad night. It was so loud and deafening in that brief moment like it was a sign that told her that this was it._

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 _And then there was silence and darkness._

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 _She didn't know how long she floated in this darkness for, but it seemed to be never-ending, mocking her for her failure._

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 _Her shoulder?_

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 _Really, the shoulder?_

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 _And the left shoulder at that, considering she was holding the damn scissors in her left hand and she was right handed for goodness's sakes!_

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 _She wasn't sure, but she thought she could feel her eyes prickling at the corners. It was somewhat difficult to tell in this endless, timeless space._

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 _Some more time had passed._

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 _A minute._

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 _A day._

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 _A month?_

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 _She couldn't tell anymore, and frankly, she didn't really give a shit anymore, either. She just wanted it to end._

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 _Pfft!_

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 _Didn't it?_

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 _Now she could definitely feel those stupid tears._

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' _You're not allowed to cry, Beth.'_

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' _GOD!'_

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' _Why didn't you just leave?!'_

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 _He was right there!_

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 _He was…_

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 _Daryl…_

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 _I…_

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 _She knew what she wanted to say, but damn it all! Even dead, she couldn't spit the words out. After biting and chewing her bottom lip, only a sad sigh came out._

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 _Daryl_

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 _Daryl, I'm…_

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 _I'm sorry._

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 _I'll see you soon._

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 _In My Time of Dying_

 _By: Hoozuki_

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Just because I'm super pissed with that episode and I love Bethyl. This also started due to a prompt I found while exploring the Bethyl tumblr universe.

Anyways, this is my first Bethyl fic, but I'm not all too worried about. I'm actually lookin forward to it 'cause now I could put my Southern ackcent to use! Still, please be kind and review, and I'll be posting the first chapter by tonight after I finish editing it.

So be on the look out for that as well!

 **Dad Jokes brought to you by RICK AND CORAL GRIMES FROM THE WALKING DEAD! ENJOY!**

 **Coral: Are you alright, Dad?**

 **Rick: No, I'm half left.**

Not gonna lie, but I cried after that one. I know, I know. Don't be judgin'. Y'all laughed on the inside.

Sincerely,

Hoozuki

Final Word Count: 408 Words


	2. Chapter I: Where is Here?

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Chapter I

 _By: Hoozuki_

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 _"I often wonder: suppose we could begin life over again, knowing what we were doing? Suppose we could use one life, already ended, as a sort of rough draft for another? I think that everyone of us would try, more than anything else, not to repeat them."—Unknown_

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 _Where is Here?_

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 _"Ugh…"_

The first she noticed was the throbbing pain in her head. It was like a small dull warbling sensation that was seemingly becoming louder and louder the more aware she became.

The second thing she noticed was the blinding whiteness behind her eyelids. She could have sworn it was dark several hours ago.

Was this heaven?

 _'No,'_ a voice quickly whispered in the back of her mind.

And she was sorely tempted to believe it.

Heaven shouldn't be this painful and hot. That was last thing her mind and body registered. It was flippin' hot. Not hot like humid hot where the mugginess made it feel like she was drowning and was in serious need of another bath. No. This heat was dry and burning. At least, if she was hot and dying, her skin would stay moisturized. Yet here—wherever here was—she could literally feel her skin sizzling under the relentless sun. With how fair her skin was, it wouldn't take much to bake her. She'd turn red in under five minutes without sun block.

Hesitantly and warily, Beth cracked her eyes open only to snap them shut with a hiss and rolling to her side, hands coming up to cover her face. The young woman groaned, feeling the sharp heat of the ground beneath her.

God, where the hell was she?

Is she in hell then?

Was this her punishment for trying to kill Dawn?

Well, obviously, it didn't work. It wasn't like the woman didn't deserve it, though. That woman used anything and any _one_ just to keep her control and get what she wanted. Beth knew that, but she just couldn't let her have Noah. It wasn't right, not when he had worked so hard. Still, in retrospect, what did standing up do for her in the end? She was dead now, and she didn't get to say anything to Daryl after being separated from him for so long. She missed him terribly, wishing every day that she hadn't left him that night. She should have stayed, but she trusted him and he trusted her. How could they have known that that place—their little temporary haven—was a trap? After what they've been through, after losing the prison like that…and her dad…that place was a small miracle to them. It was theirs, and she wasn't going to let Dawn or Gorman ruin that.

Certain that her eyes have adjusted to the brightness, Beth tried again. At first, the blonde wasn't sure what she was looking at. Everything just seemed so white and bright, stretching into infinity. Sitting up slowly, still completely aware of her pounding headache, she took in the scene once more. It took her another minute for her brain to register what her eyes were seeing. When it did, there was a lump in her throat she couldn't swallow. A small but heavy pit settled with a significant weight in her stomach for her to breathe properly. The best her body could do was give her a hitch of breath as her heart skipped every other beat. Her eyes were becoming dry because she refused to blink in case everything melted away to darkness again.

With shaky and trembling legs and clammy hands soon to be coated in fine gravel, Beth pushed to her feet, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"H—H—How…?" Her labored breathing made it strenuous for her to string words together suitably. "How is this possible?" Beth finally managed, but in a tiny whisper, still afraid that none of this was real.

All around her, reaching for miles and miles on end, was the barren desert, the color of copper red painting the landscape. And there she was, standing trapped between it and the great, beautiful, big, blue sky above, alive and breathing. Then, as if that fact reminded her of an even more important fact, a plaster covered hand flew to her head. A stickiness met her fingers first, followed by the now prominent scent of iron filled blood. Beyond the iron and stickiness, she could discern a small shallow depression by the hairline of her forehead that wasn't there before. Instantaneously, the girl froze like she was just shot again, swallowing thickly. In spite of the heat, Beth's body shivered while the middle finger trailed like a skittish rabbit along the cap of her skull until it met the second depression, a now smooth patch of skin taking its place. The exit wound was considerably larger than the entry—much larger than she expected. It felt like the size of a quarter compared to the entry wound which probably felt like the tip of her pinky.

But she was confused.

Her father told her that if a person were to be shot in the head and survived, the majority of the time, that person would be suffering from some brain injury or damage—functions that would be affected such as memory. Usually patients wouldn't or couldn't remember what happened to them. It was a very rare case that one did. So how was it that she still remembered every single thing—right up until she got shot?

Gray blue eyes flecked with yellow glanced around the surroundings again, this time without awe and amazement, but emotionless and calculating. Her cast hand moved instinctively to the knife at her hip, but feeling nothing but air, those eyes glanced down and saw that the knife including the holster was gone. Cussing under her breath, Beth looked this way and that all around her as if it would just appear out of thin air. It made her panic somewhat. Since the escape of the prison, she was never without that knife. Without having some sort of weapon on her person was similar to being naked. She was vulnerable. Without it, she was just a helpless girl.

At this point, after a few minutes of looking, any sort of weapon would have sufficed. Beth just needed to not feel useless and weak.

 _Scrap!_

Beth looked down and lifted her foot. Below her boot was an old looking serrated hunting knife. Blonde brows rose in pleasant surprise, and as she picked it up, the young woman saw that there appeared to be day-old blood on the non-serrated side. Her blood ran cold, yet her hand continued to grip the handle tightly. Scanning at the dirt under her boots, her eyes picked up patterns within that would have looked random to anyone, but thanks to Daryl, she saw it for what it was. The patterns were almost a stop-and-go kind of movement as if someone was pushing and another pushed back. As her mind analyzed the tracks in the dirt, she wondered briefly what Daryl would think if he saw her now? Would he be proud that she was able to keep her emotions out? Happy? Surprised? Sucking in her bottom lip, she figured he'd be surprised. Hell, even she was still coming to the idea of being alive. Not only that, but she was still in the clothes she died in aside from her missing knife.

Her hardened gaze landed on the edge of the rock she was on to her far right, right where the tracks ended. Taking in the formation of the solid red rock wall on the other side, Beth couldn't help but think once again where the hell she was—because it certainly was not Georgia, that's for sure—as she peered over the edge cautiously. Inhaling sharply, Beth saw two bodies far below. A male and a female, by the looks of them. Without a second thought that the two might be turning into walkers soon, the blonde began to maneuver her way around and down the canyon. It took her a good while to get to them what with her right hand being out of commission and her wearing cowboy boots and all. By the time she got there, the sun seemed to be at mid noon now.

Upon reaching them, Beth flew to the woman's side, noticing that she was covered in blood and half-naked. Pushing the man's body off hers and rolling her over, Beth checked for bite marks first just in case. When she found none, fingers flew to the pulse on the neck, feeling nothing after a few seconds. The young woman then sighed dejectedly, sitting back on her heels and withdrawing her fingers to reach for her newfound blade. Her first instinct was to stab the woman in the head, killing the brain in order to prevent the turn; however, the knife froze in midair, light glinting off it and reflecting back into her eyes.

There were bruises on the dead woman's abdomen, a thin slice across her clavicle, and cuts on her face. Looking at her blood again, she realized that it was about the same color as the smear on the knife. This woman couldn't have been dead for very long. She could also see wounds on the arms and hands with split knuckles. To her, they looked like defensive wounds. Wounds she had seen plenty of times when she helped her daddy treat Rick or Daryl. Frowning, Beth tried to recall how she found the two people.

The man was on top.

Her head snapped towards the man so quickly in realization, she was pretty sure she was going to get whiplash later. Without any hesitation, Beth stabbed the woman quickly and leaned over her, pulling the man by his shoulder back in order to see if he had any injuries. However, once his face was revealed, the girl let go with a sharp intake of breath like she was burned and scrambled backwards until she ran into the rough wall behind her. Pale eyelids blinked several times as her mind wondered if it was playing tricks on her again. It wouldn't be the first time she deluded herself.

Yet as the man continued to lie there lifelessly instead of disappearing into thin air like mirages did, Beth eventually move from her stiffened position to crawl around right beside him.

"Daryl?" Beth called softly, gently lifting his head into her lap. Immediately, she felt the familiar warmth and sucked in a sharp hiss. "Daryl?" she tried again louder when he didn't respond, unconsciously becoming more nervous and scared.

There was blood coming from his mouth, and she wondered if that had anything to do with the head injury. A large amount of blood came from the head wound as well, worrying her quite a bit. This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be the last man standing no matter what. He wasn't supposed to leave her behind.

"Daryl! Daryl! Wake up! Please!" Beth cried again and again, shaking him as she did so. "Wake up, damn it! Ungh..." She tried to hold back a strangled sob, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, blurring the image of him.

Still, there was no movement, and she felt all the energy leave her body as the fact settled coldly in her bones. Here, she finally found him and he left her. Nothing was happening like it was supposed to. _He_ wasn't supposed to go like this.

Tears now flowing freely, Beth cradled his head close to her, her cheek resting against his forehead, her body rocking slowly back and forth.

"I'm sorry, Daryl," she whispered too softly. "I should've stay with you. I'm so sorry."

Beth held him tighter, not wanting to let go just yet even though she knew she had to. All she wanted was just one more moment with him before she ended him for good. If there was anything she hated more than losing him, it was seeing him turn into walker and becoming one of the living dead. It was the one silent agreement between the two of them that if they went, don't let them turn and hurt anyone else. After witnessing the deaths of their loved ones and seeing them turn, it was something they wouldn't want the rest of their family to see, either.

Taking several huffing deep breaths, Beth nodded to herself, preparing herself to end it for him. "Okay, okay. C'mon Beth. This is what Daryl would've wanted," she told herself, pulling away and wiping her tears. Yet as she lifted the knife and looked at him again, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. A rasping gasp forced its way out of her lungs and out of her throat as a new wave of sorrow and grief escaped her. She didn't realize how badly this would hurt. Losing the prison was tough. Losing her daddy was harder. But, losing Daryl? Oh god, it felt like she like she couldn't breathe, would never be able to. It was too much. Her heart was being torn to shreds, and there was no stopping the agony. Beth wasn't sure if there was a way to. The tears just wouldn't stop coming. Her cries didn't even sound like crying anymore. To anyone else, it was just pure grief, painful and senseless sobbing.

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 _Misplaced_

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How long did she sit there for?

She wasn't sure.

The one thing she was sure about was that her tears have dried up. All she felt was numbness and iciness in her heart. Eyes sliding blandly upwards, she snorted bitterly. The sun moved, but it wasn't significant enough to say that a whole day passed and it was nighttime. At least two hours passed if she had to guess. Well, either way, to Beth, it sure felt like an eternity; however, she knew she couldn't sit there forever. She was just lucky the disease was various in the time it took to take over a human's body.

Straightening up sluggishly from where she continually cradled his head, Beth took the knife she found, placing it so that it was perpendicular to his temple. Gently moving aside the fringe across his forehead, Beth went down to give him a kiss when she heard and felt it. Her body froze once more, but this time it was not out of grief but fear. It was so quiet, so miniscule that she wouldn't have heard it at all had she not leaned down at that moment. How she missed it, she didn't know. Yet, all the same, she did. She really did. It was her sorrow that caused her to be distracted and careless. It wasn't something that could be helped, though. She and Daryl had barely made it out of the prison alive last time. If it weren't for the adrenaline pushing them and the screaming demand to live and survive, she was sure the both of them would have collapsed right then and there, all broken and empty.

That habit of hers would be her downfall in the end. She was too emotional for her own good. Wore her heart on her sleeve too often, too visibly—just out there for the world to see and take advantage of. It also made her unaware of her surroundings as she shut down everything but what was right in front of her. Because of that, she had missed the sound of him breathing, rasping by her ear—the sound of it being muted in lieu of her crying; and the feeling of his lungs expanding and compressing against her lap because she held him too tightly to notice. Even more subtly, she felt the beat of his heart.

And, here he was. Breathing so shallowly for her to discern, but it was there. He was alive, and she almost stabbed him in the brain! The immediate horror came to her when she realized how close she was to killing him. Now knowing that he was alive, Beth was suddenly bombarded by the smell of blood as it leaked from his head wound onto her hands, staining them a bright red. Carefully, just as her daddy taught her, Beth meticulously examined his head to find the site of injury all the while checking the symptoms for severe head trauma. There was no evidence of cerebrospinal fluid leakage or bruising around the eyes, ears, and nose. The only place where she did see some evidence of injury was at the top left of the parietal bone. The bone itself didn't feel depressed, but she was sure she felt a bump forming as blood began to clot over. The injury itself wasn't quite as dramatic as the amount of blood made it to be. She had forgotten that head wounds tended to bleed more than usual wounds. Lifting up his dirtied white wife beater, Beth could see bruises forming around the upper torso. Eyes shifted downward to the abdomen, and as they did so, a small exhale of relief came out when no bruising on the stomach was seen. There was, however, a large amount of blood coating his hands from the wrists down as well as speckles dotting his upper chest here and there.

Though with furrowed brows, the young woman tilted her head back to look at where she had climbed down from, and by the looks of it, a fall from that height was damn near impossible to survive. At this, Beth couldn't help but look back at the man whose head continued to remain on her lap. She could see bruising and scratching here and there on his arms and face that suggested he fell, but nothing that screamed a 70 foot drop. There was still the blood on his arms, however, even that didn't look like it came from him. Truly, it was a miracle he was even in one piece with limbs in the correct direction. Blue eyes landed on the dead woman next to him. It was probably because of her that he lived. She broke his fall just a bit. Looking at her though, Beth was still wondering why the woman had been half naked in the first place. That train of thought led her back to this Daryl. Compared to her, he didn't really look all too beat up and that worried her. If what she thought was actually true and she might be in a different world—a parallel world, then this Daryl might not be the same as her Daryl. Regardless if he was or wasn't, he looked like Daryl and even smelled like him—oil and cigarettes yet underlined with another scent she had yet to identify. She was going to help him even if he wasn't the same. Because he was Daryl. Simple as that.

With her choice made for her, Beth firstly took the blade and ripped a portion of his mechanic's sleeve off and wrapped it around his head to staunch the bleeding until she could find help or treated him herself. Afterwards, she checked his pockets and his boots for any hidden weapons. If she was right and he did attack that woman, she needed to make sure he didn't have anything to use against her. Beth didn't find any weapons, but what she did find was a small little mint box. Curious, she opened it and was hit with a sharp smell that had her almost vomiting. Deciding that it could bring her more trouble than good, she chucked it aside. Satisfied with her search, she tried to think of her next step.

 _'C'mon, think. How would Daryl figure this out?'_

As she gave a sidelong glance at Daryl's lookalike and his unconscious form, the answer came immediately. She needed to find a vehicle and get them the hell outta dodge. However, seeing as the man couldn't be moved too far, she had to find another way to get him to safety.

All around her were the red walls of the canyon, tall and narrow. She was only able to make it down was because part of it had sloped down a bit. Places like these were always attracting all kinds of hikers, experienced and beginner alike. There must have been a place where people actually parked their cars before they started the hike, usually at the end of the deep walls. As simple as it sounded, the young woman knew that it wasn't. Even when the hikers thought they were going straight, they ended up making a turn somewhere earlier and getting lost. She heard about it all the time when she was younger. People would go off the trail purposely sometimes, too, because they were usually idiots. And from the looks of it, this trail didn't seem to be the most common. Even so, she needed to get them out of there. Evening was starting to settle on them, and the desert would be extremely cold.

Reluctantly, Beth stood up, settling to take the path that led her to him in the first place. After making sure the sun wasn't directly on him, Beth took a deep breath and started walking.

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 _Out of Place_

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 _Sometime around 7 P.M…._

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"Huh…! Finally!" Beth exclaimed, huffing and panting as she bent over, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

The sky was now a large canvas of streaks of reds and oranges with splashes of pinks, purples, and dark blues. The dryness and sharp heat of the day was slowly giving way to cooler and soon to be frigid temperatures. She could feel it through her thin cardigan. Instead of exiting the walls as she had originally thought, the floor of the canyon gradually moved towards an incline, bringing her to the original height of where she started albeit a little further away. That didn't really matter much to her as actually finding a way out. Above the walls, the surface was much flatter, allowing her to scan the surrounding area for anything that would help. Just somewhat to her left, her sharp gaze caught something red, looking like a speck in the distance. Considering it was her only lead, Beth set off in a new direction.

It wasn't few minutes later, though, she was abruptly hit with the scent of raw decay and putrefaction which caused her to stutter to a stop in her tracks. Beth gripped her new hunting knife in a vice-like hold, eyes darting here and there to spot the walker before it spotted her. Although, she hadn't seen anything as of yet, her stance changed from straight and casual to crouched and cautious. Moving in the way that Daryl taught her—' _roll into the step, heel to toe'—_ the youngest Greene held the blade up, having flipped it so the hilt of the knife was resting against her pinky. Despite the fact that her hand was still in the cast, she was still going to use her right hand since she hadn't mastered using the knife in her left hand yet. Daryl had taught her things here and there in the middle of teaching her how to track and hunt about how to use her knife properly so that she'd always have the upper hand. She certainly wasn't going to disappoint him by being reckless.

As she continued this way—half crawling her way there—the rotting smell grew stronger and fouler. The left arm flew up to cover her nose as her eyes watered and the instinct to gag and vomit became urgent. Making up that small incline and peering over the edge with narrowed eyes and held breath, Beth finally saw what was causing the pungent and acidic smell. Unable to hold back the urge any longer, she quickly threw her head to the side, emptying her stomach of what little contents it had. And it wasn't much. All that came out was stomach acid, burning her esophagus on its way up while leaving a disgusting and bitter taste in her mouth. Moaning and spitting, Beth took several deep lungfuls, only to remember the smell and heave again. After two and a half years dealing with walkers—even falling into a revolting pit of dead bodies—one would think that she would be used to the smell by now.

Cautiously now, Beth slowly breathe in through her mouth instead of her nose. Once sure that she wasn't going to puke again, Beth climbed over and walked over to the mutilated corpse. It was quite disturbing really. The head and appendages still resembled a human, but the innards were pulled apart in all different directions, looking like a morbid spider. Ugh. Because she didn't see any teeth marks or ripped skin aside from the entrails, it was safe to say that this was not done by a walker. Though, she wasn't sure if that was any better. If the Governor or her time at Grady had taught her anything, it was that humans were much more dangerous than any walker.

After stabbing this man through the skull with a bit of difficult since the bone was still hard, the blonde continued the endless distance until she was eventually standing in front of a beat up old red truck with round clearance lights on the roof and a wooden bed next to a mine entry. Something in her chest felt light upon seeing it, but she quickly reeled it in. She didn't want to get her hopes up. God knows what happened the last time she did that. Opening the driver side door, her hands went to fast work, first looking for the keys. If she was lucky and the owner was stupid, the keys should either be in the ignition still or car sun visor or the glove compartment.

 _Jingle!_

Beth smirked. The owner was a total idiot. Who in the world leaves their car keys still in the ignition? Granted, they were out in the middle of nowhere, but still. Moron. Now that she found the keys, it was time to look for anything useful. She found a small first aid kit that was surprisingly very well supplied underneath the seats and a flashlight and a map in the glove compartment, but that was it. The cab was just filled with trash like the owner hadn't clean in years. In the bed underneath the tarp was a toolbox and a plethora of glass bottles and cleaning supplies. That was strange. Was this person a plumber or something? Although, judging from the clear liquid in the glass bottles, she would have to say no. Seeing as how she had no use for any of the supplies nor the maybe moonshine, Beth threw everything out to make room for the other Daryl. She could use the tarp to drag the Daryl's lookalike's body out as a poor makeshift gurney. Still, she shrugged, it was better than nothing. The toolbox was a bit better find. There was the usual standard tools along with a full bag of zip ties and electrical tape. As she pushed the toolbox aside, there was another box it slammed into that she didn't notice, having been tucked in the far corner she couldn't reach. The girl curiously took and found that it was a worn and beat up old briefcase. Taking a flathead screw, Beth pried open locks with a pop and then pushed the lid up. A quick gasp was made as she took in the large bills seating in neat and even rows.

"Whoa…" she breathed, taking a stack and flipping the bills. Seeing that they were all one hundred dollar bills made her let out a low whistle. A quarter of this could have easily paid for her college loans if she would have had a chance to go. Gingerly, she placed it back and moved the toolbox to hold it secure. She might need that money in soon if she was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future.

Beth took the flashlight, after placing the keys in her pocket, and the knife, and made her way to the entrance. Flicking on the light, a dark, winding, and uneven tunnel was revealed. Nothing beyond where the light could reach was able to be seen. Because it was late evening now, the tunnel was even darker and seemed to be more ominous. She was sure that if she went in without being mindful of her surroundings, she could be lost in there for days. Old mines like these tended to be more maze-like.

 _Here goes nothing._

Walking down this tunnel was starting to remind her of all those times she had to run to keep up with Daryl when it was just the two of them. On days where the two of them found nothing, he'd sit there and stare into the fire with a painful emptiness to his eyes. Whenever she tried to break him out of it, he would flick his eyes towards her and glare. It made her angry and disappointed and sad to see that defeated look in his expression like he knew that everyone they loved were gone forever. But she was stubborn. Unfortunately, so was he. While she never gave up on the hope that their family was out there trying to look for the two of them as they were with them, Daryl was adamant that everyone was gone. He never said it in those first few weeks, but just that broken stare was enough for her. It was strange. Being with him during those months. At first, it was awful—the silence between him and her filled with tensions of sorrow and hate. She hated silence. It made her think of too many things that she wasn't supposed to be thinking of. It made her think that sometimes maybe Daryl was right and she was wrong. It drove her to think of things that were too hopeless and depressing. It also made her wonder if Daryl even really knew if she was there beside him. If he even heard her words when she talked. Of course, he'd respond if she said she was hungry and thirsty; but other than that, nothing. All she got from him was nothing.

Yet after a while, she had grown used to the silence. Well with Daryl anyways. She had discovered that the two of them didn't really need to talk to maneuver well together. She supposed that they would have to or learn to. It was only the two of them, after all, in a world full of walkers and bad people. All they had to do was give one look, and as if one person had read the other's mind, they would move at once. Other times, there was a power struggle for them—mostly on Daryl's part. When he was feeling particularly down, he would go at a running pace through the woods, almost leaving her behind sometimes because the only shoes she had were the ones she escaped the farm with. Those cowboy boots had been with her through thick and thin; but right now, they were killing her. What she wouldn't give for some tennis shoes or hiking boots right about now. The random jutting rocks had her coming close to twisting her ankles or bashing her head in several times already every few steps she made. Whatever was down here had better be damn worth it.

A minute later found her in front of what looked similarly to that moonshine shack Daryl brought her to except she was sure the shack smelt better than this hovel. When she had pulled back the plastic sheeting, it was not what she expected to find out in the middle of nowhere. The cave was dark and dank and filled with smells like cleaning supplies and rotten eggs. It was all giving her a bad headache really. Her feet ran into what sounded like cans and glass and plastic bottles while the beam of light flashed over the surroundings. When it landed on a bottle of bleach, a click resounded very loudly in the back of her brain as it rushed to keep up with what her eyes were seeing.

 _Oh crap…_

Well, all those chemicals in the back of that truck made sense now. She needed to get out of here. If she was right, she did not want to be around when some angry asshole finds her in his secret little meth lab. She heard stories and watched TV, and those people never appeared to be nice to lost passerby. Maybe the person who ran this place was the same who mutilated that guy back there. Either way, she wasn't sticking around to find out. Backtracking was a lot easier now that she knew where she was going, and soon she found herself back in the outside world filled with fresh air. Jumping into the truck with renewed haste, she got it started, backed out, and drove down the little path to where she climbed out all in a few minutes. Really, when driving back, she could have sworn the walk was longer.

But as she gathered the worn tarp into her arms, Beth tilted her head back to look at the now black sky dotted with stars. She could feel the chill settling beyond her sweater already. Moving quickly, she reached the other Daryl in record time. Once the tarp was spread and after a little struggle of dragging dead weight onto it, Beth squatted down and pulled out the zip ties she found and secured them over his wrists. It wasn't something she did easily, seeing as this man carried her friend's face. However, she rather be safe than sorry. She still had no idea where she was, but knew that she was definitely not in the same world as she was before. She didn't know if that was actually true, but somehow she felt it was. She was a stranger here, and he was a stranger to her. Until she could prove otherwise, that was what he'll be to her from then on.

…

 _..._

…

 _Nowhere to Be Found_

…

…

…

 _Thu-thunk!_

…

…

…

Beth winced as she drove over another dip. Really, who would want to live in a damn desert? It was so dry and hot here, not like Georgia was any better, but at least she wasn't sizzling. Then, when the sun had set, it got super cold. Not only that, but everything looked the same at night, especially without any streetlamps.

When she finally drove them out of the canyons—or at least she thought she did—Beth just picked a direction, hoping that maybe she'll run into a small town. No such luck so far. All that lie before her was the empty interstate highway and the plains of the desert. There were no trees, bushes—not even a bird. There were no signs of life anywhere in this godforsaken place. Annoyed blue eyes flickered to the rearview mirror to make certain that the tarp was still in place. It was the best she could do to shield him from the elements since there was no room in the cab. She had accidentally dropped him a little too hard onto the bed, and he groaned a bit, but never woke up. Not wanting him to be rolling his head all over the hard surface, she gave him the cardigan, folding it so that his head would be a little cushioned. On the other hand, she kind of wished she dropped him a little harder so he would wake his ass up and tell her if she was going the right direction. All of that tracking and hunting may be good in the woods, but did diddly squat in a desert!

As the truck came up upon a T-intersection, the young woman groaned. Why couldn't signs just be straightforward? Her life would be so much easier if they were. Pulling out the map that she found and clicking on the flashlight, her eyes darted from the page to the signs.

The sign on the left read:

 _US 89 S  
Hatch 10 _

while the sign on the right was:

 _US 89 N  
Panguitch 9_

Blonde brows met in the middle as a confused frown formed. _Panguitch?_ Why did that name sound so familiar? Grumbling at herself that this wasn't the time, Beth looked over the map, not even registering that she should have looked to see if it was a road map of a state or the whole country. She was too focused at the moment to pay attention to the little details. If she could just find this place, then she'd be able to figure out how far from Georgia she really was.

 _There!_

Using her pointer finger to keep her mark, she scanned near the edges of the map to find the state name. _Utah._

…

…

…

 _Utah…_

…

…

…

 _Utah?_

…

…

…

 _UTAH?!_

…

…

…

She was in Utah? How the…? Snapping her head back down, she looked for Panguitch, pinning it with her right forefinger, and trailed the two of them together until the digits met in the center. What was printed underneath her fingers made her paler and colder that she already was.

She wasn't just in Utah.

She was in _Red Canyon_ , Utah.

* * *

I forgot to mention. If I reach about a certain amount of reviews, I'll continue the fic. If not, I usually scrap it. This just tells me if the readers are interested in it or not when they provide feedback. Otherwise, I'd just write it for me.

Sooo...I'm betting you guys can now figure out what that prompt was. Honestly, Moi has never heard of the movie and when I saw the prompt, I was curious and watched it. It was 'meh.' But for those of you who have watched it knows that this "other Daryl" is kind of a...shall we say a bit of a maniac? However, seeing as Beth is a lot more mature now and after she's been through and her demeanor while at Grady, I think it's safe to say that she has hardened quite a bit.

I feel that if she were still alive, she would still have the same hope in good people, but now a little bit more cynical and broken, hardened by her time at Grady. She would probably feel as uncomfortable as Daryl being at Alexandria, I think. More closed off as well. So she will be a badass, learning from the bestest badass there is, Daryl Dixon, but still having what makes her Beth.

In the words of twitter Rick Grimes: "Thank Beard it's Friday!"

 **Dad Jokes brought to you by Rick and Coral Grimes from The Walking Dead.**

 **Rick: Hey, Coral. What do you call a zombie prostitute?**

 **Coral: -silence-**

 **Rick: A street walker!**

 **Coral: Dad, mom's dead.**

 **Rick: A street walker, Coral!**

Oh Rick, you crazy man.

Anyways, please be kind and review. If you have any questions at all, please feel free to ask in the review or pm me. Or if you just want to goof off and joke around, I have a twitter account, too. Just too lazy to mention last time. It's **manseriouslywhy**.

Looking forward for you thoughts!

Sincerely,

Hoozuki

Final Word Count: 6, 281 Words (will get progressively longer from 50-70 pages)


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